Burstin' Out

Notes on the Album

You wouldn't think that the venerated Chicago Jazz Orchestra and the spectacular vocalist Cyrille Aimée--both firmly connected to their own time--would have much in common with storied orchestras and singers of eras past. (Or maybe even with each other:
Aimée at 28 is younger than the CJO, which traces its roots back to 1978.) You'd be wrong.

The memorable orchestras of jazz's heyday--from those of Benny Goodman and Count Basie to the later bands of Stan Kenton and Thad Jones--depended on a steady flow of superior arrangements from a cadre of skilled and innovative writers. Chicago Jazz Orchestra? Check; their charts, written mostly by guitarist Charley Harrison and trombonist Tom Garling, follow suit. And by adapting previously conceived arrangements--small-band designs by Assaf Gleizner (the pianist in Aimée's own "Surreal Band"), orchestra charts by Billy May and Claus Ogerman--the CJO expands its pool of contributors to include those as well.

Playing such charts has always required a top-drawer orchestra with compact, unerring section work and a committed director. With co-founder Jeff Lindberg conducting, the CJO again complies, sporting a row of veteran reedmen; a tight trumpet section, topped by a locally legendary lead man; a burly trombone quartet; and rhythm players that any band would kill for. But despite their reliance on the written line, the great big bands all boasted a raft of strong soloists; the CJO honors that tradition, too, with Garling, tenor men Eric Schneider and Scott Burns, and pianist Dan Trudell leading the way.

Only one element remains. Ever since the big bands came into view--primarily as a vehicle for the pop music that solidified what we now know as The Great American Songbook--the crowning touch has been a top-notch vocalist. Benny Goodman had Helen Forrest, followed by Peggy Lee; the Chick Webb band made a star of Ella Fitzgerald (and vice-versa). Count Basie had Joe Williams; Tommy Dorsey had Sinatra; Kenton made June Christy a household name in 50s cool.

And now the musicians of the CJO have found their Sinatra, their Christy--their Ella. Her name is Cyrille Aimée, and if you haven't yet heard that name, you certainly will. This prediction requires no special insight: she's not exactly a secret, having won the Montreux Jazz Festival vocal competition in 2007 and the Sarah Vaughan International Jazz Vocal Competition in 2012, after taking the bronze in the 2010 Thelonious Monk Competition. The wide range of her burgeoning career ensures you'll run into her somewhere--either singing the gypsy jazz she grew up on outside of Paris; or trading bop licks with her contemporaries at Small's or Birdland in New York (her current home); or at the helm of her own pop-inflected band.

In a way, all those experiences contribute to Aimée's uncanny ability to not just front a jazz orchestra but actually command it--as if she'd hand-picked the players and rehearsed and directed it from the start--using nothing more than her sweet-and-smoky voice. It has a girlish lilt, but that's not all that makes new listeners think of Ella Fitzgerald. When she scats a solo, Aimée's improvisations rival those of the best instrumentalists: she sounds as if a sterling saxophonist had channeled her voice for his own statement. (When most jazz singers scat, you wish they wouldn't; in Aimée's case, you just want more.) And gently but firmly, she carries a rhythmic authority that announces itself with each syllable--a barely perceptible lilt that screams "swing" in even the softest breath.

Those things are all apparent on the curtain-raiser, "What A Little Moonlight Can Do," where Aimée also offers small but devastating melodic paraphrases worthy of Lester Young. In her interpretation of the lyrics, she plays the innocent--right up until the last chorus, where she swings her hips with a seductive growl. In this one song, she shows us three or four of her musical personae. And she's just getting started.

She reveals the practiced virtuoso on the next tune--when she mirrors the horn soli with perfect intonation--and the wise-beyond-her-years traveler in Charley Harrison's slowly simmering adaptation of "A Night In Tunisia". (Forget the bebop fireworks so often heard on this tune; the tempo channels desert languor, while the voicings whisper of exotic flora.) When Aimée strolls "I'm Through With Love," weary with heartbreak, she does so with enough conviction to convince you that she--a Frenchwoman, no less!--might actually mean it. On the other hand, "Sometimes I'm Happy" bubbles and brims with optimism. And if you don't fall in love when she sings "I really do," at the end of the second chorus (1:12 into the tune)--well, you probably never will.

This gifted, versatile, and above all musical singer should make you happy, not just sometimes but always. Add the protean, professional, and above all simpatico Chicago Jazz Orchestra to the mix, and you can just smile your way right through the day.

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Neil Tesser, 2013